


If My Heart Was A House

by seamonster (orphan_account)



Category: Homestuck
Genre: AU, Ghost John, Hammertime - Freeform, Haunted House, Multi, no sburb, sort of, two johns!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-31
Updated: 2012-10-31
Packaged: 2017-11-17 10:28:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/550580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/seamonster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The life of a big-shot director isn't as glamorous and exciting as everyone seems to think. Not for Dave Strider. But when he takes a well-needed retreat from it all, renting a house in the countryside for some peace and quiet, he starts attracting excitement of a different kind. In fact, Dave is pretty damn sure the house is haunted.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If My Heart Was A House

**Author's Note:**

> okay, so johndave might be a guilty pleasure for me. well, no, not really that guilty, i really like their dynamic together. so here you go.

_Circle me, and the needle moves gracefully,_  
 _Back and forth,_  
 _If my heart was a compass, you'd be North,_  
 _Risk it all, cause I'll catch you if you fall,_  
 _Where ever you go,_  
 _If my heart was a house, you'd be home._

  
  
"This will be good for you."

  
Is what Rose had said, several times. She said it after she'd found the house and suggested the idea. And said it again during the drive up as he pretty much ignored her from the passenger's seat.  
Good for him, sure. Like something as trivial as peace and quiet could help him out of this slump. Although he had to admit that he liked idea of getting away from everybody, the producers, the studio, the annoying PA's all clambering for his attention in the hope of maybe being able to pitch an idea. The hustle and bustle and ever loud noise of LA. The fuckin' fans, who still managed to find his house no matter how many time he moved. He could use a little time without people breathing down his neck for one reason or another.

  
The sleek, black Prius hummed quietly down the dirt road, having turned off pavement some half a mile ago. Dave was no longer grumbling in his seat, he'd gotten tired of that ironic display after the first hour. Instead he sat slumped with some earbuds in, just watching the trees as they fluttered in the wind through the double tint of his sunglasses and the darkened windows.

  
A soft touch to his arm startled him a bit, but he didn't show it. Just drug his eyes away and popped out an earbud.

  
"There is it," Rose nodded forward, eyes still in front of her, instead of on her brother. And Dave followed the gaze.

  
Yup, there it was, alright. He tipped his shades down to better see the house they were approaching.

  
It was bigger than he was expecting it to be, it hadn't looked that big in the pictures. It wasn't huge by any means, just ...bigger. And Victorian. The house was nestled comfortabley in the very center of the clearing of trees, standing beautiful and proud still, and very well cared for it seemed. It was painted, like most houses of the Victorian era, in soft pastels, gentle blues and greens in this case. Except for the front door, the front door stood out like a crow amidst doves, painted completely a bright red. Around it was a porch that appeared to wrap half-way about the house, and the front corner had one of those lovely 'princess towers'. It rose to a rather impressive three stories, complete with a widow's walk on the top level.

  
The grounds were equally lovely, with clean-kept grass, and sweeping red willows. Roses peeked around the corner of the porch in the promise of a full garden that was no doubt in the back.  
It was all very lovely and romantic, and peaceful. Just like Rose said it would be. And for the next two months, it was gonna be home. Or something like that. Honestly, it could have been a shanty in a swamp for all Dave would have cared.

  
They pulled up to the front of the house, following the driveway that swept right up to a cobblestone path that met the porch stairs, and Rose stopped, cutting the engine. A few people were already there, the jade green Civic was a dead give-away as to who was having the house prepared for him. And sure enough, as he rolled out of his sister's car (shades getting pushing back onto his face properly), a tall, elegant woman in a pencil skirt suit was coming down the front steps.

  
"Hello, Dave. Did you have a pleasant trip?"

  
"If by pleasant you mean boring, then yes. It was extremely pleasant," he stopped long enough to spare a nod of greeting to his sis's girlfriend, then went to grab his bag in the trunk. Rose made her way around the car with a small, real smile.

  
"Hello, dove. I hope you haven't been here long."

  
Kanaya smiled prettily back, leaning down to press a simple kiss to black stained lips. "No longer than necessary. Just been making sure everything is in order. Rose, Dave, I'd like you to meet someone."  
As she spoke, an elderly woman came out the bright red front door, making her way slowly along with her cane. She wore kind expression that held just a hint of misplaced playfulness for someone her age, and looked both the blonds up and down through her monocle. Her white hair was pulled up in a perfectly shaped loose bun, and she even wore a crochet shawl around her shoulders. Dave almost asked if she was for real.

  
"This is Mrs. Jane Crocker, the owner of the house and properties. And she is ever so kind to rent it out to us during this time."

  
"Hello, everyone. You must be Dave and Rose," she only managed to hobble down a couple of steps before both blonds were moving forward to both shake her hand, and help her down the rest of the way. "Oh, thank you, thank you. That's ever so sweet."

  
"Lovely to meet you, Mrs. Crocker," Rose smiled with all her charm, making the woman chuckle and pat the hand she still had on her arm.

  
"Oh, please, dearie, call me Jane, or Nanna. But there's no need for that Crocker nonsense. Now, you must be the famous director, yes?" just the way she said it, with a bit of a teasing twinkle in her bright blue eyes, made the corner of Dave's mouth quirk up. He couldn't resist giving a short bow, hands out and open in the 'what can I say?' gesture.

  
"That's me, Nanna Jane. Too big and bright for city life right now, had to escape the love crazy fans."

  
She chuckled again, breath coming out in charming 'hoo's. "Well, this is about as escaped as you can get, Davey. I own the land within a mile of this house and it is all considered private property. So if you see any of these love crazed fans about, you can simply ring the authorities on them."

  
Dave's smile widened when she winked at him.

  
"Now, my son is going to show you around the house, just as soon as he's done in the garage. Reconnecting the eletricity and all that. Come, come, this way."

  
-

  
Ms. Jane's son gave Dave a set of keys for the house, apparently back in the age the house was built, people needed more than one key. The silver ring housed a key to the front door (the obvious one), but also included a key to the back door, a key to the garage, one to the shed, another to all the doors on the first floor, another for all the doors on the second floor, and yet another for all the doors on the third floor. It had a few more on there that weren't really explained, but Dave also wasn't going to ask so it didn't matter.

  
He got to pick his room, opting for one on the second floor with a perfect view of the back garden (which was bursting with flowers of all colors, as expected). All of his things were brought up by  Mr. Crocker, they were shown the entire grounds, and then given a small list of numbers he could call in the case of an emergency. After the Crocker's left, Rose dragged Dave out to buy some groceries and other things he'd need. Her and Kanaya stayed and made dinner, chatting and being merry as though they'd just bought the house themselves. But when the dishes were cleaned, they both bid him farewell, and drove off into the quickly gathering night.

  
Leaving him.

  
All alone.

  
"Don't worry about a thing, Dave. This will be good for you."

  
Peace and quiet.

  
He was bored out of his fucking mind in the span of less than ten minutes.

  
He collapsed back onto a mattress that was perhaps too soft, staring up at a bare, unfamiliar ceiling. Why the hell was he even here again?

  
Oh right, because of the script.

  
See, Dave's first movie had been a box office smash, and earned ten times the amount it had cost to make. Dave was confident, but not even he had seen that coming. Naturally, his second film had high expectations, which he not only met, but broke, making a real and respected name for himself.

  
So, as the course of things go, he was expected to top his second movie with an even more mind-blowing masterpiece of a third.

  
The thing is, in order to film a mind-blowing masterpiece, you first have to have a mind-blowing script. Which is why he ended up in the situation he was in now. Because Dave refused to let anyone else write his scripts for him. He was a man of his own means, always had been. And if he was going to make films, they were going to be a hundred percent his, and not just something the studio hired him to do.  
And the first two had come so easily.

  
The third was giving him a little trouble. He already had producers asking him when he wanted to start casting, where the script was, what kind of budget he'd need, where the script was, studio or on location filming, where the script was.

  
Newspapers and magazines had a fucking field day when he cancelled the contract. Because there was no point in having a contract for a movie that hadn't even been concieved yet. And no matter how hard he tried, or how many ideas he explored, or many nights he stayed up staring at a blank word document on his laptop screen, nothing was coming to him.

  
Rose aptly called it writer's block. Dave called it a slump. The press called it news. But Dave didn't want to be news for something he couldn't do. Which was the bread crumb trail that led him exactly where he was now. In an out-of-the-way lover's paradise, completely alone, in a house that was actually a little creepy at night.

  
Fan-freaking-tastic.

  
-

  
To be perfectly honest, he slept through the first couple of days. Not straight, but he really only woke up long enough to eat, listen to some music and bathe. He probably could have turned into a vegetable (he was shooting for zucchini, zucchini's are cool) if his phone hadn't gone off at the ungodly hour of nine a.m. on day three.

  
'You's a Hoe' echoed loudly in his head before he even opened his eyes. The room was dim because the curtains were pulled, but enough of the blazing sunlight filtered through to let him grab the iphone from the bedside table.

  
It was Rose, big surprise.

  
"What?" he grumbled when he brought the phone against his face under the covers.

  
"Good morning, sunshine," she already sounded amused, no doubt knowing she woke him up. In fact, the was probably why she called him, just to wake him up.

  
"Fuck you," so he hung up, curling more into the blankets. His phone went off again shortly.

  
"That wasn't very polite, Dave. I'm simply trying to help you."

  
"Help me? Do you have any idea what time it is?"

  
"Nine, the perfect time to wake up for someone who's been sleeping for several days."

  
Dave actually opened his eyes, "how did you-"

  
"My God, so you have been sleeping this whole time. Dave, honestly, get out of bed. I know I said for you to relax, but there are limits. So get up." He voice had taken on that stern edge that Mom always got when she was reaching sober status, right before she'd make another drink. It meant there was no room for argument. And even though she was almost two hours away, Dave knew better than to ignore her.

  
"Fine, fine, okay, I'm getting up," and as he said it, he pushed the blankets back and sat up in bed, popping his back as he went.

  
"Good. Now have a nice day."

  
"What?"

  
But the line had already disconnected. Dammit, she did just call to wake him up.

  
His shades were on the bedsde table next to where his phone had been, but they were soon right where they belonged, before his feet even touched the floor. He slid his curtains open dramatically, like they do in old animation movies, and stared out into the back yard. It was just as pretty and flower filled as it was a couple days ago. In fact, didn't a garden like this require a fair amount of maintenance?

  
When he realized he was comtemplating the maintaining of a garden that wasn't even his, he shook himself slightly, and moved away from the window. He was hungry, anyway.

 

  
  
It wasn't as if Dave couldn't be alone. He sure as hell could. It was just that, out in the middle of nowhere, he didn't know what to do with himself. He knew what he should be doing, but everytime he passed the study, he wouldn't even look at the door. Rose had taken his laptop and everything, and had set it up nicely on the great oak desk in there for him. Ready whenever he was kicked in the head with a wicked idea. His brain was just lacking those ideas. Actually, it was pretty much lacking most thought altogether.

  
Dave spent day three exploring the house.

  
Again, it was bigger than he'd been expecting. There was, in fact, a basement. Dave made it six steps down before he went right back up. And it was in no way because it gave him the heebie jeebies, nope. Naw dog, that ain't him. He just didn't care for the dust, allergies and all that.

  
The kitchen he was familiar with already because food. While he was in there, he made some toast with jam and a glass of apple juice. The dining room was useless to him and seated far too many people and he refused to eat in there. The drawing room was comfier, and he plopped down in an old fashioned chair to munch on his food.

  
He was actually kind of digging the house so far. It was old world, but still looked fairly new. Nanna Crocker's son, Mr. Egbert had mentioned something about Nanna's late husband being some kind of world explorer. Which explained some of the weird things they had sitting on bookshelves, or had mounted on the wall. No animal heads though, thank God. But in the drawing room, there were cool things like old african spears on the walls, weird tribal masks next to them. The globe was spattered with pins that he guessed indicated where the old grandpa had been. Which was pretty much everywhere. There were yellowed and fading photos in frames along the walls and bookshelves. A few were family photos, but others were of a man with a rifle, standing with various people and animals.

  
Dave put the remainder of his toast in his mouth and stood up, setting his glass down on a little table. He moved over to one particular photo that sat lovingly center stange on the fireplace mantle. It appeared to be of the family from several decades ago. Nanna Jane was old now, but he could still pick her out, the family was small afterall. She smiled with the same hint of playfulness back then as she did now, and held a delicately wrapped baby in her arms. Next to her was a man roughly the same age, grinning wide and bright and mustacheless, but he still guessed him to be the exploring grandpa. On her other side, though, there was another boy. Much younger than the first two, but definitely a sibling. He had the same wide, genuine smile and dark-as-night hair. Like the other two, his clothes were a bit old fashioned. Dave could only guess he was a brother or something.

  
"Hm," he hummed to himself in thought, turning away from the photos after glancing at a few more and not seeing the brother again. As he passed the little table, he reached down for his glass of juice idly, wanting to check out the globe again. But he had to wobble to a stop and glance down when his fingers only slid through wetness. Shades slid down his nose a small ways, giving a clear view of the ring of condensation on the table where his cup had been.

  
Had been.

  
Right?

  
A quick glance around the room and he spotted it, resting innocently on the windowsill right behind the chair he'd been sitting in. His brows furrowed a bit, staring at it, light filtering through the amber colored juice, glistening off the droplet studded glass.

  
He hadn't..put it there. ...Had he? Dave took slow, wary steps towards his applejuice, brow still furrowed, bottom lip poking out ever-so slightly.

  
His fingers closed around it firmly, as though he half expected it to dissolve in his palm. Needless to say, it didn't. "Hm," he repeated, maybe he had ghosts.

  
Or maybe not. Movement outside the window made Dave look up from the cup, white-blond brows perking up finally. His eyes followed a head of black hair, attached to one...fine...piece of ass, as it moved across the yard. The young man carried a garden tool box and a watering can and suddenly the beautiful garden didn't seem so unreal. Of course they had a gardner. It was just Dave's never failing luck that their gardner happened to have a booty that looked down-right smackable in those filthy jeans.

  
And what kind of desperate housewife would Dave be if he didn't invite the gardner in for some cool and refreshing applejuice?  
  


**Author's Note:**

> idk if i'll actually continue with this. i want to? but things are kinda hectic rn.


End file.
